“Look!” Amy says excitedly, waving a floppy. “The next clue!”

I lean over Amy’s shoulder, wondering if this new vid will be about the weapons we’ve just discovered or if it will help us fix the ship. “Why did he use a floppy instead of a mem card this time?” I ask idly.

She shrugs. It doesn’t matter—here’s the next clue, and we’re one step closer to finding what Orion hid before we froze him. And one step closer—I hope—to discovering just what that secret is.

And if it has anything to do with bringing the engine back to life.

I barely dare whisper the thought in my mind—but—there’s no denying the fact that Orion knew much more than any of us thought he did, and it somehow revolves around the stopped engine. This giant secret he keeps hinting at—it must be the key.

“Ready?” Amy asks, swiping her fingers across the screen.

Instead of seeing Orion sitting on stairs and talking, though, the screen remains black. I lean closer. Amy’s grip tightens, making the floppy curve.

“Why isn’t there a video?” she asks. “Did I do something wrong?”

I shake my head just as white words start to scroll across the black screen.

You’ve made it this far. That’s good. I expected nothing less from you.

First, I have a question for you. Why do we have these kinds of weapons?

“That’s exactly what I’ve been wondering,” I mutter.

“Mm?” Amy asks, her eyes bouncing from word to word.

“Nothing,” I say.

There has to be a reason for it. You have to be asking yourself the same thing I asked Eldest: If we are on a peaceful, exploratory mission like Eldest said—why are we armed for war?

Eldest never really answered me. It’s for when we land. That’s all he’d tell me. That the frozens have a reason for needing this kind of weaponry. But you don’t have guns like these unless you plan on killing something. It’s either us or them—whoever, whatever is on Centauri-Earth.

Either way, we—all of us born on the ship—are going to be caught in the middle when we land.

The last words fade to nothing but black, and then static fills the screen, quickly replaced with an image of Orion on the bottom of the big staircase. This video is different from all the other videos—not just because it was prefaced with scrolling text, but because Orion is much younger here, maybe twenty or so. The camera films at a crooked angle, and Orion reaches out and readjusts it. He keeps looking around, as if nervous to be discovered.

ORION: I just learned the secret. The big one.

“He’s younger here,” Amy says.

“He looks like me,” I say.

“No, he doesn’t.”

He does.